Penance
by riane
Summary: An exploration on penance. Beware of angst. Rogue/Pyro


**Title:** Penance

**Author:** riane 

**Rating:** T 

**Spoilers: **Set after _X-Men The Last Stand_

**Disclaimer: **Nope, don't own X-Men or its affiliates. Just another fangirl :) 

**Summary:** Rogue/John

* * *

He knows that he should have been angry. Furious. _Incensed._ Yeah, that's the word. _Incensed. _

He flicks open his lighter, growling. Watches the flames grow and twirl into something that looks too much like her.

/

He hated her, then and there, for choosing to take the Cure. What they had, what they all shared, made them outcasts, but it made them who they were.

She was a fool for trying to defect to the other side.

/

Rage soon turns into sickening longing.

Sheer, stubborn pride stops him from visiting The Institute. From visiting her. That, and the usual war.

/

Imagine his surprise when she shows up at his apartment, two years later.

Her hair is dyed black - no trace of white - dark eyeliner hastily applied around those eyes, and her lips a sensuous slash of red.

'John.'

'Marie?'

It's her. But it can't be. Marie was a kid when he left. Messed up, naive, clingy. This - this _woman_ - is anything but that. She smells of engine oil and sweat. He can barely think straight.

'You gonna let me in, or do I just waltz on in?' she drawls.

He mutters an apology (when did he ever say sorry?), welcomes her in, shuts the door behind them.

'Uh, sorry about the mess,' he says sheepishly, 'wasn't expecting anyone.'

Shrugging, she doesn't miss a beat, and she sits down on his worn-out sofa.

'So what brings you around this end of town?' he finally manages, perched on the opposite end.

Her presence is as intoxicating as ever. Even more now. Two years has been too long. She looks older. It's not just the hair, make-up and leather, it's her eyes.

'I was in the area,' she smiles lazily. 'Figured I ought to say hi. Would be mighty rude to not visit an old friend.'

He snorts. 'Old friend, hey? We're on different sides, Marie.'

Something flickers in her dark eyes. 'I'm not with them anymore, John.'

He blinks. 'What did you say?'

She stands up and paces, bored already. 'I left the institute two years ago. I'm not with the Professor anymore. '

'What about Bobby?' He still spits out his name.

She laughs, hollow and bitter. 'That ended once I had the Cure. I lost my mystery. We lost our mystery. He's with Kitty now. I should've seen that one coming.' She shrugs. 'I was young and stupid.'

Something wavers in her voice, her shoulders droop forward ever so slightly, but before he can say anything, she asks gruffly, 'Got anything to drink?'

/

She doesn't speak much after that.

So he - surprisingly - does the talking. Mostly to fill the silence. He fills in the two years they've spent apart. In between training and doing dastardly deeds, he's been working as a mechanic. 'Good job,' he says. 'Pays the bills.'

He also adds in the obligatory spiel about how he's so proud to be part of The Brotherhood and so on and so forth - he stops when he catches her smiling softly at him.

'Why are you smiling at me like that?' he asks uncomfortably.

'Because you finally belong.'

He runs his fingers through his hair. 'Yeah. I do. I - I guess I do.'

/

'Thanks for having me over, Johnny,' she smiles. 'It's getting late. I'd better go.'

_Please don't go don't go not like this not without -_

He hides the growing panic in his voice. 'So where are you headed?'

She shrugs. 'Anywhere. Got my bike. A bit of cash. Enough gas to take me wherever I need to go.' She looks away. 'Got nobody to miss me when I'm gone. I - I still don't belong nowhere.'

He catches her by the wrist and pulls her closer.

'Stay here. With me.'

/

He remembers to take the lead.

He never was afraid of her skin, not the way Bobby was. Now that's not even an issue anymore.

/

He traces the outline of old bruises on her inner thigh.

'Who did this to you?' he asks quietly, knowing the answer, but needing to hear it, so he can hunt the bastard down and burn him alive.

She chuckles sadly. 'Can't remember. Too many of them.'

He shudders from rage and despair. 'Why didn't you come to me sooner?'

She closes her eyes. 'Penance.'

/

He's afraid that when they wake up, she'll be gone. So he fights to stay awake, memorising the curve of her cheek, throat, shoulder, hip, thigh, calf - everything.

/

He wakes up gasping, wrenched out of a nightmare which he'd rather forget.

He turns around, groping blindly at the empty sheets.

She's gone.

/

He finds himself an abandoned warehouse and burns it, sky-high.

/

She comes again, two weeks later.

'Why'd you leave me like that?' he hisses.

'I wasn't ready-'

'Did you have your boyfriend waiting for you? Did he beat you up enough?'

She slaps him across the face. He knows he's gone too far.

'I should never have come back.'

He sighs, trembling. 'Marie - I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Come back. Please.'

She hovers in his doorway, clutching her helmet in her hands, biting her lower lip, a paradox of fragility and ferocity.

'If you go,' he finally says, 'I'm coming with you.'

Her eyes widen. 'But you've got your job - The Brotherhood -'

He shakes his head. 'You heard me.'

She slowly steps closer - one step, then two - before dropping her helmet and wrapping her arms around his neck. He breathes in her scent and he's drowning again.

'I've missed you.'

/

So they make it up as they go along.

He introduces her to the gang. They don't recognise her. He doesn't expect them to. He warns them to never ever mention the Cure and they shrug. Some things are just too raw to talk about.

It's a mutual understanding.

/

He finds notes on her pillow, when she's not there. Scribbled apologies, explanations. She's learned to tell him beforehand. She understands that it guts him, each time, and that he'll never get used to that feeling of abandonment.

But understands too, that this is something she needs to do. The look in her eyes when he uses his powers - even if it's just to light the stove - is enough to make him haemorrhage.

'Do you think I'll ever get my powers back?' she asks him over dinner. He almost chokes on his food. They're at a sushi bar, for starters, and she's just about dropped a bomb on him.

'I don't know,' is the best he can come up with at short notice. He squeezes her hand, feeling utterly inadequate.

She looks into the distance thoughtfully. 'I lost a part of me when I gave my powers away.' Then she shrugs and asks him to pass the soy sauce.

/

Days turn into weeks and then months, and when the bruises finally fade, he wakes up and realises that it's becoming a habit, seeing her next to him.

/

'Would it make a difference,' she asked, 'if my powers came back?'

'No,' he says, meaning it. 'We'd just have to get creative.'

She hides a smile.

/

He tells her he loves her in his usual ways. Small gifts he picks up from here and there. A small bracelet. Nailpolish. Toe-rings, even. She likes those.

When he's back from work early, he fixes dinner for the two of them.

/

'I never thanked you,' he says quietly.

'For what?'

'For finding me.'

She smiles, kissing him on the nose. 'You were the one who helped find _me_, sugar. So we'll call it even?'

He nods, smiling back. 'Sounds good to me.'

_THE END_


End file.
